The Lake House
by Dhampir72
Summary: AU Lavi/Allen. "Even if we’re two years apart, I still love you." Based on the film: The Lake House. Chapter Two finally online!
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: The Lake House

**Summary**: Lavi/Allen. "There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison...."No amount of time can change these feelings or separate these lovers. _Even if we're two years apart, I still love you_. Based on the film: The Lake House

**Rating**: PG/PG-13

**Genre: **Romance (obviously).

**Content**: Boys in love. Maybe a brief instance of violence. Some swearing. Boys kissing. You know the drill.

**Characters**: Allen and Lavi

**Author's Note**: I know I should be finishing other things, but this is my love child at the moment. Consider it a strange fascination with time and anything involving Keanu Reeves, because that man—no matter what people say—is insanely attractive to me.

**pqpq**

He hadn't seen the place since years ago; right after it had first been built. Time was kind to the structure, most appropriately called the Lake House. Although it had been empty for many years, it still retained its charm and silent beauty, quietly presiding over the elements of the Earth. It was a square building, held up a reasonable height above the placid water of the lake in a majestic sort of way. Long, rectangular windows stared out at the water that stretched out for a good mile and a half; gazed fondly at the foliage that surrounded the body of water. It was, as his grandfather had put it _Paradiso_.

Lavi Bookman threw his rusty Ford into park, letting the engine die as he sat and looked at the house from his childhood memories. Although serene and architecturally magnificent, Lavi could remember no fondness for the building when he was younger. It was just that place where he lived after his mother died and his father abandoned him, leaving a seven year-old boy to try to comprehend the stubbornness and neglect of an uncaring grandfather.

Despite this, Lavi had come back to the Lake House in hopes of finding serenity from the chaos of his life. Architecture had been his grandfather's dream, not his, and had left him in a profession he despised: building townhouses in Chicago's nearby suburbs. The cookie-cutter houses that looked all the same were not his vision of an artistic dream he had once had for himself. It was dead end job that allowed no room for creativity. It was also exceedingly lonely, leaving Lavi to fear ending up like the stoic man who had raised him. The only reason his grandfather even looked at him in the first place was the slight strand of commonality in their bloodlines and nothing more.

Sighing, Lavi grabbed his blueprints and stepped out into the cold February morning. Frost crunched under his boots as he walked down the long dock toward the quiet house. From there, the rest of the morning was spent airing the place out and cleaning up, as he would be moving his things in the following day. Light moved across the soft wood of the floor. _It's all about the light_ his grandfather had always said. _Light brings beauty to an otherwise unimpressive object_.

Later that day, Lavi took out the trash that he had pulled down from the attic. He bagged that with the debris from the yard that had fallen into neglect. Setting down the black garbage bags at the end of the dock next to the dust bins, his elbow struck the rusting metal mailbox out front.

"Ow, dammit…" Lavi grumbled, holding his elbow as he glared at the box for causing him such an offense. But after a moment, when the slight stinging subsided, Lavi realized that there was something inside the old mailbox: a letter. _Strange_ Lavi thought. _No one's lived here in forever…_

_January 4th, 2006_

_Dear New Tenant,_

_Welcome to your new home. As a previous tenant of the Lake House, I can safely say that you will love it as much as I did. I've put in a change of address with the post office, but you know how that works sometimes. Please do me the favor of forwarding any mail that might end up there to:_

_1620 N Racine Avenue #14 _

_Chicago, IL 60601_

_Thanks in advance,_

_Allen Walker_

_P.S. Sorry about the paw prints on the deck. They were there when I moved in. The same with the box in the attic. I just never got around to cleaning up._

Lavi looked at the letter and read it over a few times with a confused sort of expression. Not only was the date two years ahead of 2004, but the contents of the note were incorrect. The Lake House had been empty for many years, as the realtor had mentioned when he signed all the paperwork. And then there were the finer details…

"Paw prints on the deck?" he repeated out loud, walking back to the house. There were no marks on the old wood. "Box in the attic?" His brow furrowed deeper when he recalled that there had been nothing in the attic save for spider webs and dust.

**pqpq**

It was a warm, sunny day in February, which was rather odd for that time of year. But the residents of the city were taking advantage of the weather. Allen Walker was not exempt from this population, choosing to have lunch with his adoptive father, Mana Walker, in the city square. They were eating hoagies from Laspada's while seated on the stairs in front of the bank, enjoying Chicago's steady heartbeat. It was a nice break from the cramped, hectic life that Allen led in the nearby hospital, where the hours were too long and the pay too little. Even still, Allen loved his work, despite that all he _did_ nowadays was spend the majority of his time at that hospital. With these mixed feelings towards his profession, the little reprieve was welcomed, especially to enjoy company beyond that of his dog at home. His novelist father had been so agreeable to meet his son for some quality time that he had even paid for lunch, despite Allen's protests.

"I don't know why you left that house, Allen. You seemed very happy there," Mana said. Allen swept back a strand of his fair hair, looking out at the people passing by with their lives. Couples were the most apparent, happily moving past without a care in the world. Valentine's Day made these people very annoying to the man, but Allen couldn't help but experience the tiny bit of _want_ for a true relationship with someone. All of his had been…not right.

"The commute was too much," Allen replied, taking a bite of his Italian sub. He didn't want to think about that beautiful house he had left behind. Allen was a realist and knew that it was better if he lived closer to the hospital, even if it meant a cramped apartment over on the west side. "I decided to save on gas."

"But that house was quite something," Mana said, shaking his head. "I've never seen you so enthralled about something since medical school." Allen laughed, thinking about the lake house he left behind. It was his old life and he truly hoped that the new tenant there would enjoy its peaceful serenity as much as he had, starting their new beginning.

"Well, it was very calming," Allen answered, "but that drive everyday was just too much, you know?" Mana nodded in understanding, the two of them enjoying the comfortable quiet between them on the warm day. It was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a horn blaring, the squealing of brakes, and then the shattering of glass. People screamed and ran. Smoke plumed from the site of the accident that had occurred right before their eyes, where Allen had seen a green sedan swerve in an attempt to not strike a pedestrian. They weren't fast enough. Without saying anything to his father, Allen pulled his cell phone from his pocket as he ran towards the scene.

"I need an ambulance on Union and 5th!" he shouted to the receptionist at 911 as he rushed to the intersection. "A pedestrian had been struck by an oncoming vehicle." With that, he ran into the fray, telling people to stand back as he rushed to the man lying crumpled against the pavement. Allen immediately set out to perform basic first aid and started trying to resuscitate him. But no matter how many rescue breaths he gave, the man beneath his bloody hands would not stir.

"It wasn't your fault," Mana told him, later that night. It was after the man had been taken away beneath a tarp and the intersection had been cleared of all debris. Allen knew it wasn't his fault, because he understood he couldn't save everyone. It came with the job, he knew, but no matter how many times Allen washed his hands, he still felt like the blood was there.

"I know," Allen said, biting his lip. He dealt with mortality everyday: he had watched children suffer incurable diseases and watched the old die. He had witnessed life so unfairly taken on a daily basis. That afternoon had been one of those instances, where a young man was killed in the prime of his life. He had so much to live for, but his life had ended prematurely due to accidental causes. And on Valentine's Day, of all days. What if he had someone at home waiting for him? And what if…No one was there at all?

Which was the more tragic outcome?

"Maybe," began Mana, putting his hand on Allen's shoulder. A gesture of comfort and understanding to the things Allen would never say, but Mana could intuitively _know_. "You should take a break. Just for a little while." The hospital willingly gave him the time off after such a traumatizing accident, although they were saddened to lose their best attending for two weeks. Allen knew that it was selfish and that he was truly needed there, but their eyes told him to go and recover so that he could continue to work at full capacity.

Because that was all there was for Allen Walker. He knew this as he drove down lamp-lit, crowded highways towards the one place he had truly felt at peace. There was only work for him. There was no one waiting at home.

At least he could take the letter out of the mailbox now.

**pqpq**

Lavi set out the next day to fixing up the place. Even though it was Valentine's Day, it wasn't as if Lavi had anyone to share it with, or anywhere to go for that matter. Because of this, he focused his energies on the Lake House and comfortably settling in. After getting the majority of his things from his old studio, he sorted them into their appropriate places inside the house. There was no room for clutter in such a space, but Lavi didn't have much in the way of excess besides books. His grandfather, he thought wryly, had been the same way, which was why there was ample room and shelving for volumes of all kinds around the house. But organization aside, Lavi figured it was time for some freshening up of the place. The railing on the walkway deck needed to be repaired and painted, so Lavi made that his first chore for the day.

After mending the broken, splintered wood, he set out to painting it. He chose a dark brown from a local hardware store, knowing that the color would help accent the narrow, light-colored walkway. As he was kneeling down in an attempt to coat the stain all around a baluster, he heard the scratching of nails running across his deck. Starting slightly, Lavi turned around in time to see a small, golden dog run past him towards the house. It had knocked his paint over in the process, spilling it across the panels.

"H-Hey!" Lavi yelled after the animal. It stopped by his door to give him a confused sort of look, its slightly mangy hair and no collar allowing Lavi to know it was a stray. But before he could muster up another shout of accusation, his eyes moved down to look at the deck. The dog must have gotten the paint upon his paws when rushing by him, as there were dark paw prints below his feet. They stood out in sharp contrast to the pale wood. "Paw…prints…?" Lavi said aloud to himself. The mutt barked and he looked up, shaking his head. "No…couldn't be…"

When the dog wouldn't leave, even after Lavi painted all the railings, he figured it wouldn't be that terrible to keep a pet—would it? Giving the animal a bath was difficult, but in the end when Lavi was sore, tired, and wet, the dog looked passable and rather amiable. Once it settled down for a nap on a makeshift bed of his old t-shirts, Lavi picked up the letter again and read the post script once more.

"Paw prints on the deck…" he murmured, pacing about. "Box in the attic…" He checked. The paw prints were still there, but the box remained absent from the small attic. Shaking his head again, Lavi sat down at the kitchen table with the letter to read it over once more. 2006. The letter was dated January 4th, 2006. Two years ahead of time, which meant that the letter couldn't have been sitting there since the last tenant moved out, right? He rubbed his hands over his face, tired and confused. Maybe it was some sort of prank? Unsure, but determined to find out, he produced a piece of paper and a pen and replied.

The next morning, Lavi sealed and stamped the envelope and put it in the mailbox on his way to work. He had a P.O. Box in a smaller town south of the city and all of his mail went there, so the mailbox remained free of any letters. But if the mailman were to come out here, he would certainly find the letter addressed to Mr. Allen Walker and take care of it for him. If not, Lavi would go to the post office the next day, or day after, to collect his bills and he would bring the letter with him.

That decided, he got in his truck and sat there for a few moments in front of the heater. He had to make sure to get dog food for his new guest and he needed milk from the store. Mentally filing these things away for later, the redhead breathed a tired sigh and resigned himself to go to work.

Another meaningless day.

**pqpq**

When Allen arrived at the lake house, he had gone inside and fallen asleep immediately in what had been his old bed. He felt so fortunate that his realtor hadn't sold the place yet, so returning was made simple for him. With only a few boxes of things and a suitcase of clothes, Allen felt he could live comfortably during his miniature vacation. The view was calming, too, he realized, when drinking his first cup of coffee by one of the large windows where the light spilled so beautifully against the soft wood floor. The trees and the water were so serene and he felt his troubled mind relax slightly in nature's presence. He'd _missed_ this.

His golden lab was certainly happy about the change of scenery. Timcanpy had hated life in the city, and now had the freedom to run around as much as he chose. Allen opened the slider door to let the dog bolt outside into the crisp morning air for some exercise. As Timcanpy chased after squirrels and crickets, Allen walked in his comfortable bathrobe toward the mailbox to remove his letter. After all, there was no new tenant to worry about welcoming and asking for favors.

However, inside the mailbox, he found his own letter to be gone and a new one in its place. His name was in an unfamiliar hand and the envelope itself with not enough postage to even be processed into U.S. mail. Inside, Allen found a letter addressed to him with a date two years in the past:

_February 14th, 2004_

_Dear Mr. Walker,_

_I received your note in my mailbox yesterday. There must be some sort of misunderstanding. No one has lived here at the Lake House in years. I'm sorry, but I also do believe you've gotten the date wrong. It's 2004._

_Sincerely,_

_Lavi Bookman_

_P.S. I'm curious to know as to how you knew about the paw prints on the deck. They weren't there until earlier this afternoon, when a four-legged guest had the pleasure of dropping in unexpectedly._

Allen read the letter once, twice, and then three times in an attempt to decipher what this person meant by all of this nonsense. As he walked back toward the house on top of dark brown paw prints, Allen had to wonder just what this person was talking about. And what sort of joke was it that this Lavi Bookman's return address was the same as the house Allen owned?

_February 15th, 2006_

_Dear Mr. Bookman,_

_I can assure you that you are the one who is incorrect. It has been 2006 all year. Ask anyone. And despite your obvious inability to know what year it is, would you please forward any of my mail you would receive? It would be appreciated. The address, once again is:_

_1620 N Racine Avenue #14_

_Chicago, IL, 60601_

_Thank you,_

_Allen Walker_

He decided not to comment on this Lavi Bookman's rather crazy notion about the paw prints, deciding that his mystery correspondent was already a bit loose in the head to not know the correct date. Besides, they had been there for as long as Allen lived in the lake house, and that was that.

**pqpq**

Lavi hadn't had many friends over the course of his life. He wasn't sure why, but people irritated him at times to no end, which was why the rather attractive redhead normally found himself without the company of others. However, he did happen to have one good friend, whom he decided to drop in on after a confusing response from Allen Walker and a monotonous day at his place of work.

"You look like shit," said Kanda Yuu, when he emerged from his sleek, marble building in the center of Chicago. Lavi couldn't help but grin at his friend's coarseness.

"I missed you too," Lavi replied to the Japanese man. He felt underdressed in his thermal and Carhart jacket. Not to mention his pants were embarrassingly dirty with mud and dust. Normally, Lavi would not feel such inferiority, but when Kanda looked well groomed with his hair brushed and suit spotless, the redhead did experience a feeling that he had gotten the short end of the stick in his occupation. "How's the business been going?"

"Rather well," Kanda replied in a neutral tone. He wasn't haughty at all, even though Lavi knew he could have been. Maybe Yuu was being humble because he felt like being snobby would be a waste of his time in comparison to someone as lowly as Lavi. Either that or they were better friends than Lavi thought. "But I've come to the realization that you haven't built shit since we graduated. Or should I say, you have _only_ built shit. Townhouses? You didn't go to school for _that_." Well, so much for friendship.

"Ha, well, you know…" Lavi said, with lack of anything else to say. He had planned on getting drunk that night just to fill the time and Kanda was willing to do so when Lavi proposed going to the bar. It led to a smoky atmosphere behind brown bottles, empty glasses, and too loud music playing from the jukebox nearby.

"So, what have you really been up to?" Kanda asked Lavi, after they'd had a few shots. The only way to get the normally stoic man to speak was to get him drunk. And Kanda was very drunk, Lavi knew, because he had explained his entire last few years at his company in great detail. Also, Kanda never asked about him, unless he'd had at least three drinks, which Lavi was sure he had exceeded by now.

"Well…I bought a house," said Lavi. Kanda actually looked somewhat surprised, which appeared out of place on his face. It was funny to see Yuu act so human after knowing his robotic behavior for so long. Lavi took another sip of his beer before continuing: "The Lake House, actually."

"That old project, huh?" asked Yuu, seeming now to be rather uninterested as he ordered another drink. Kanda saw the place once, a long time ago, and Lavi recalled that he had not liked it much. He said that the light was too bright.

"Yeah," said Lavi, drinking the rest of his beer. "I also have a dog."

"You're stupid," said Kanda, snorting into his drink. Lavi laughed, shaking his head as he lined up their empty bottles. Yuu would think he was stupid for such a thing, but someone successful wouldn't understand how lonely Lavi was by himself. Having a dog was a welcome relief from the silence, actually.

"I also sort of met a guy," Lavi added, as nonchalantly as possible. Yuu was fine with him being "a little bit bent" but he didn't like talking about Lavi's relationships with other men. It made him uncomfortable, he said all the time, because he was straight. But Lavi had to wonder if this was the case. Especially when Kanda took such good care of his grooming habits and long hair and sometimes, when he was so drunk, that Kanda would put his arm around Lavi's shoulder and say things a straight friend shouldn't say to his friend. Shaking these thoughts aside, Lavi smiled and nudged Kanda, adding: "In fact, he lives close by…" After a few more drinks, Yuu was agreeable enough to walk a few blocks to Racine Avenue. When they reached 1620, beneath a flickering light post, Lavi stood in awe and wonderment at what laid before his eyes.

"What is this?" Kanda asked, looking grumpy and puzzled. A bit of drunken humor escaped him when he added: "Should we ring the doorbell?" The two of them were standing on the corner of North Racine Avenue and 31st Street before a construction site. On the side of a freshly built brick wall, there was an advertisement for comfortable new living in spacious apartments that would be completed by the year 2005. Lavi pulled out the letter in his pocket and compared the address. 1620 North Racine stared back at him from the envelope, matching the brass numbers and letters on the new wall.

The place where Allen lived was not in existence yet.

**pqpq**

The next afternoon, after taking a long walk with Timcanpy through the woods, Allen checked the letterbox to see if the mailman had been by. There was nothing in there except for a simple piece of paper that read:

_February 17th, 2004_

_Dear Mr. Walker,_

_I went to 1620 N. Racine Avenue last night. Nice place. Or at least, I assume it will be once it's been built, which won't be for another eighteen months or so. Maybe you've gotten the address wrong since you seem to have gotten the date wrong, too. _

_What am I missing here?_

_Lavi Bookman_

Frustrated, Allen stomped away from the box and into the house, his mind racing with so many different ideas. It was impossible to imagine someone living two years in the past, right? After meditating on it, Allen figured that he could play this game as well. Timcanpy, confused, followed him as he went about the house with pacing steps in an attempt to find out just what was truly going on.

**pqpq**

The following day, Lavi checked the mailbox again. Inside, he found not only a letter, but a long, orange scarf shoved into the back as well. Pulling it out with a strange expression upon his face, Lavi put it around his shoulders and opened the folded paper with anticipation and curiosity.

_February 18th, 2006_

_Okay, my mystery correspondent. Let's see if you're telling the truth. If you are, then you'll definitely need this. In 2004, at the end of February, there was a freak snow storm and everyone got sick. So, doctor's orders: stay warm and dry, have lots of fluids and rest._

_Allen Walker_

"Snow?" Lavi said aloud. The mutt by his ankles gave a bark when he said this and Lavi looked at him as if he had said something ridiculous. "Snow at this time of year? You've got to be kidding." The sky was wrong for it and the weather channel had called for sunny skies and an early spring.

All day at work, while they rushed to finish townhouses that all looked the same, for families that all looked the same, Lavi couldn't help but wonder if what Allen said was true. The letter was still fresh in his mind, burning a hole in his pocket. Nothing made sense: the address, the paw prints, the mysterious box, the impending snowstorm, the words that Kanda had said to him last night before he left: _Lavi, you should stay_…

"Mr. Bookman?" asked a voice beside him, breaking him from his train of thought. His aid, a pretty Oriental girl named Lenalee Lee, stood beside him, clipboard in hand. She was nice, but a little nosy when it came to everyone's business. Especially Lavi's. And if Lavi would have been inclined toward her sex, he might have gone for it, but since he wasn't, her constant flattery and interest was borderline annoying.

"Yes, Lenalee," said Lavi, looking at his blueprints more closely so that he didn't have to meet her eyes. She was always staring at him with such adoration. It was a bit unsettling.

"I—saw you have a dog," she replied, seeming a bit flustered, as if she was not going to say that to begin with, but had changed her mind half-way through. Lavi looked up and blinked, turning his head to look at his truck, where a big bag of puppy chow sat in the front seat.

"Yeah. I took in a stray a few days ago," Lavi answered with his nicest smile. He didn't want to speak his mind, where he would probably ask her, with forced civility, to mind her own business. She beamed at him when he answered and Lavi thought she could rival the sun with that. No doubt about her being gorgeous, but the redhead could not find himself attracted to her in any way beyond her ability to manage everyone's time efficiently. Maybe he could hook her up with Yuu.

"I love dogs! They're so cute," she was saying, bringing him to the present. Lavi had the sneaking suspicion that she was most likely a cat person, just pretending to like dogs in order to—why did he always get hit on by _women?_ Instead of asking this aloud, he merely nodded and let the subject die, going back to his supervising without much more to say. But she apparently had a lot more to say. "Um, so I heard that you moved out in the country."

"Yeah, to a little house out on a lake."

"That sounds nice! Do you like it?"

"Of course. It's a beautiful house."

"That's great! Maybe one day—" Before she could finish that statement, Lavi noticed that one of the men on the Bacco was close to a waterline. It would set them back weeks if it was hit, so he hurried through the mud to stop him. It was also such a good excuse to get away from the question Lenalee would be certain to ask. The girl in question, startled by this sudden escape, ran after him, only to have her heels sink into the mud to her ankles. Once Lavi had prevented the disaster, he turned around to see Lenalee practically in tears over the predicament. They must have been expensive shoes.

"You need to get some boots," Lavi said, smiling at her again, before turning to talk to the operator. He was about to lecture him on being careful, knowing the area, all the manual stuff, when Lavi realized that the driver's attention was not on him at all.

"What the?" said the man beside him. His face was turned skywards, as every yellow hard hat in the area soon followed suit.

Above them, the gray sky had started to snow.

By the time Lavi got home, the blizzard was in full force and he barely managed to get inside before he froze where he stood. From his kitchen window, he watched as the snow fell out over the lake, setting the beautiful landscape into a white out of wind and precipitation. The dog barked by his knee, as if to say: _I told you so_.

"Crazy," Lavi mumbled to himself as he watched, stirring the chicken soup he had on the stove. Sneezing, he grumbled for the rest of the night to himself, pulling the orange scarf around his neck for warmth.

There was no way this could be happening.

**pqpq**

The next morning, after Allen had had his cup of coffee and gone on his walk with Timcanpy, he checked the mailbox. Inside, written hastily on a piece of paper covered in small snowflakes were the words: _Can this be happening?_

**pqpq**

Lavi was halfway to the house when the red lever on his mailbox suddenly stood at attention. Surprised, Lavi rushed across the dock, the golden pup at his heels, yipping playfully in the snow. With cold, shaking hands, Lavi pulled the note from the box. On the back of the paper he had mailed not even moments before was the simple question:

_Why not?_

**pqpq**

I rather hate this at the moment, but I'm unsure why. Let me know your thoughts!

(Re-edited: 8/9/09. I don't hate this anymore, now that all the hanging prepositions are gone. Finally!)

**Dhampir72**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: Thanks for the amazing response, guys. I'm sorry for the late, late update, but I lost the last two chapters when I wiped my hard drive in the spring. I kept thinking that it was somewhere and that I would find it, but, alas, I had to re-write them. Here is your second chapter (or half of it anyway, because the second chapter was _way _too long). And once again, thanks for all the support!

**pqpq**

_This can't be happening._

_Why not?_

_Because it's impossible._

_It's impossible, but it happened, didn't it?_

_I suppose so. Either that or I've gone completely crazy._

_Where are you?_

_The Lake House, of course. Where are you?_

Allen looked at the hastily written conversation in blue and black ink. He had no idea what was going on. All he did was put the letter in the mailbox with a reply, and seconds later, an answer would follow. The paper was still _cold_ from where Lavi was, wherever that was. And then he had to go and say something crazier than usual. The lake house? How could he be living in the lake house too?

_That's impossible._

_And why is that?_

_Because _I_ live in the lake house._

The reply took longer than the others, leaving Allen standing at the mailbox in his robe, with Timcanpy trotting around behind him. His mind was racing with possibilities, all of which seemed as improbable as ones that came before. There was no way that Lavi could be living in the lake house, that Allen could be receiving letters from two years in the past. These sorts of things didn't happen in real life. They happened in fairy tales and the books that people like Mana wrote. The red flag stood at attention, giving a creak as it did so. Allen opened the lid and reached inside for the response. It had been scribbled on a new piece of paper in the same slanted handwriting.

_Well, haven't we come to find out that things we believed to be impossible are suddenly possible? After all, how could I be talking to you when you live two years in the future? And how can we be living in the same house if it _weren't_ for that two years difference? _

Allen begrudgingly admitted that Lavi had a point. This revelation had been the perfect example that things had stretched beyond the realm of possibility. A smile quirked at Allen's lips as he read the note again, replying a few moments later.

_Okay, you have a point. So, why don't we introduce ourselves properly then? My name is Allen Walker. It's nice to meet you, Lavi Bookman. _

And so began the most interesting pen-pal relationship Allen had ever experienced.

**pqpq**

Lavi found himself smiling more than usual as the days went on as he corresponded with Allen. There was something so interesting about the man on the other side of the mailbox, in another part of time. It was strange, no doubt, but there was such sincerity in Allen's tone when he wrote, that Lavi discovered something he hadn't felt in a long time. Was it…

_Why don't we ever talk about the things that we like? _Allen asked him one day, leaving Lavi to wonder this himself. So far, they only spoke about the mailbox, spitting theories back and forth until their hands were too sore to write. One night, when Lavi made some brownies, he wrapped one in saran wrap and left it there. Allen was all compliments the following morning. But still, they had never spoken of their family life, the things they enjoyed. All Lavi knew was that Allen was a doctor, but that was about it.

_Okay. You first_. Lavi instructed. The next morning, he received several sheets of paper with the answer. He was late to work because he had lost track of time sitting at his kitchen table, coffee forgotten, as he read Allen's neat script.

_It's hard to explain the things I like, I guess, because sometimes, I contradict myself._

_I like spacious places. Little places like the lake house, you know, that no one really knows about. I like the quiet at night, but sometimes I miss the pulse of the city. I like the smell of markets opening in the morning, crisp air in the fall, the sweetness of the spring. I like watching snow fall. I like the sound of rain on a tin roof in the middle of the afternoon. I like gardens. Any place with flowers, really. I can't keep them alive, though. The only thing that's managed to survive my brown thumb is bamboo._

_Let's see. I like all kinds of food. I found that my guilty pleasure is red wine and chocolate. Or cheese. When I was younger, I always wanted to go to Italy, but never managed to scrape up enough money to do so. It would have been fabulous, I think. But yes, I like wine. Not enough to get drunk. Just the taste. A merlot or cabernet is always perfect. It's the loner's drink, they say._

_I like dogs, going on walks, seeing new things, hearing new languages. On some strange level, I like the smell of disinfectant, like in the hospital, just as much as I hate it. I like driving with no place in mind, just going. I like sunrises, but not sunsets, because sunsets are too sad. I like cats more than I like dogs, and yet, I have a dog who I love with all my heart. I'm bad at chess, but I like to play. And even though I don't have a lot of time, I love to read. I like books so much and I have so many, but I haven't had a chance to read any of them. _

_In a sense, perhaps I like being a contradiction. _

_What do you like?_

_Allen._

That night, when Lavi returned from work, he went through his usual routine. After dinner, he fed the dog. Then he took a shower, dressed for bed, and stayed up to read. But now, the only change in that was spending the evenings immersed in Allen's letters instead of the pages of a novel. Sometimes it was just reading the notes and other times, it was writing them. That night, Lavi wrote his longest letter yet.

_That's quite the list. Let's see if I can match it with as much feeling as yours._

_I like this city. There's so much life here. You called it a pulse, I call it a heartbeat. It's like the city is alive. Everything from the sidewalks to the trees. It's amazing to feel such life in a place, like you can reach out and touch it, touch someone, almost. I guess that, being lonely myself, I notice the things others don't. You've noticed them too, I gather._

_I like the buildings. They're so tall and speak of so much history. The windows look like diamonds in the right light. Have you ever been in the park when the sun is at about eleven in the morning? They all shimmer together with such light it's almost blinding, but so beautiful. At night, they light up like Christmas trees, but nicer, neater. I like the lines, the composition, the feeling it must have taken to create such structures. It must be the architect in me. _

_And I like other things too. Perhaps I'm a contradiction, too, because I like both the indoors and the outdoors, the heat and the cold. I like the seasons. Autumn is my favorite, for your favorite reason. The air feels so fresh, like there's never been any pollution at all. I like the colors of the trees, especially at this house when the sun rises. Fire has never looked prettier. _

_I like Japanese food. Fine dining is nice, but take-away is just as good. I don't like TV, but I like watching it sometimes. I like reading more. During those raining days you were talking about, there's nothing like a warm blanket out of the dryer and a good book. I like chai, too. I learned how to make it in India. I love the spicy smell to it, but that sweetness. It reminds me of the sunrises there and the scent of the markets just before the crowds get there. The sweet taste reminds me of that coffee shop on Second Street. It's probably not there anymore, for you at least. _

_I guess I like writing too, because this is the most I've ever written since college. Well, this is the most I've ever written on a personal letter. So, I can also conclude that I like talking to you._

_Lavi_

Before he could even wonder if that was inappropriate, he had put it in the mailbox and hadn't looked back.

**pqpq**

_You know, we never talk about ourselves very much_ began Lavi's letter one day.

_What do you want to talk about, then?_ Allen replied back.

_Well, I mean…what do you do. I know you're a doctor, but what kind of doctor? Do you have any family? Are you married? What do you want to do with your life? Those sorts of things. We never talk about those sorts of things. _

_Okay. Well, let's see. I'm a successful neurosurgeon in Chicago. I come from a rich family where both of my parents love each other and have never been unfaithful. I'm married to a beautiful woman and we have five children. But none of them look like me. Perhaps I should be worried. _

_If that's so, then I'm a successful architect in Chicago. I also come from a rich family, where both of my parents loved me as much as they loved each other. We like to go fishing on the weekends and my mom makes a dinner every Sunday. I'm dating a hot Asian who goes both ways, so I'm used to having two women in my bed. It's going great._

_These are such lies._

_These are such lies, you're right. _

_Let's be honest then._

_Let's._

_You first._

_You started it._

Allen laughed, pressing his pen to his lips as he thought. Timcanpy lay on his feet, snoring softly.

_Fine. I'm a trauma specialist at Saint Joseph's. I work horrendous hours and the pay decent enough to get me an apartment, but not much more. After spending years interning at the Mayo Clinic, I finally got out here. It took me forever to be accepted. I slept in my adoptive-father's den for months. Yes, I am adopted. My father, Mana Walker, took me in when I was about seven. Good of him, really. He writes novels and is doing pretty well. For me, there's just work. Relationships have been only failures. I like my dog, Timcanpy, though. He's sleeping right now. Have you ever heard of a dog who snores? _

_Now, it's your turn._

_Allen_

The next morning, Allen found the reply waiting for him.

_Well, that's interesting. Okay, here I go then. I'm an architect, but I build townhouses in the suburbs. I hate it, but I've got to do it, you know. My mom died when I was young and my dad left before I was old enough to understand anything. My grandfather took me in. His name is Johnathan Bookman, perhaps you've heard of him? He's a pretty prestigious architect in Chicago. Anyway, he raised me (kind of) and I went to school to build things like him. He builds beautiful things (probably to balance out all the ugly inside him?!) and I told myself I would too. But, I build the same house over and over again. It's terrible. And we don't talk anymore, my grandfather and I. We just don't. I think he's just angry and I'm bitter, I don't know. _

_But I do know about dogs who snore. Man! This mutt I took in keeps me up at night! _

_Lavi_

_So, no relationships then?_ Allen found himself asking, his cheeks hot as he wrote. He considered throwing it away, but didn't.

_None. What about you?_

_None._

_It's sad, isn't it?_

_Kind of._

_Mine never work out._

_Neither do mine._

_That's what happens, I guess. Well, it's harder for me because I'm gay. Everyone just wants to fuck, whatever their sexual preference. It's just…I don't know how to describe it. _

Allen read the lines over and over again. He couldn't believe that Lavi would throw something out like that with such a casual feeling. And he couldn't believe that he was speaking with someone who felt exactly like him—who _was_ exactly like him. How unfair was it that they were so far apart?

_You don't have to describe it. I understand. My past relationships have been the same way. This one guy I dated was only about that. Others were just…not the right ones, I guess. You don't think it's punishment, do you?_

_Of course not_ was the immediate response. _How could you think that?_

_Well, you know. It's not exactly accepted._

_Because people are too closed-minded. It doesn't matter if you're straight, gay, bi, transgender. It doesn't matter if you're white, black, Hispanic, Asian, Indian, purple, polka-dotted, whatever. Everyone deserves to love and be loved. It's all about finding that person who is perfect for you and not letting go, that's all. _

Allen smiled.

_You're right._

_I know_.

**pqpq**

Lavi was in a better mood than ever before. He had never felt such warmth in his chest before. Whenever he looked in the mailbox and saw that a letter awaited him, it filled him with happiness. He didn't want to know or understand the mystery of the letterbox. At this point, he was just glad to have been so lucky to find it; to find Allen.

"I want to do something special for him," Lavi told Kanda, when they went out drinking later that week. Kanda did a shot, pulling on his tie a bit.

"Is this your guy who doesn't really live where he says he lives?" Yuu asked, looking at him with a bored expression.

"Yeah," Lavi said, ignoring his friend's reaction to that word. "I just…I'm thinking I want to take him somewhere, you know."

"Then take him somewhere and stop bitching," Kanda suggested, pushing his bangs from his flushed face.

"It's complicated," Lavi replied, staring at his sweating beer.

"You're complicated," Kanda answered, taking another drink.

"He said he likes wine," Lavi said.

"I like wine," Kanda put in, slamming his beer down onto the counter.

"I don't think you need any," Lavi replied to him, giving him a look. Kanda had definitely had one too many, just judging from his color and disheveled appearance.

"Why don't we ever drink wine?" Kanda asked, that night when Lavi was dragging him home from the bar. Lavi laughed, sending up a cloud of white. It was cold, almost March, and the streets were slick with snow and ice.

"Because if you were sober you would know," Lavi answered. Kanda gripped his shoulder, stilling their staggering gait towards the smaller man's apartment.

"That doesn't answer my question," Kanda said.

"Because you're drunk," Lavi replied, trying to pull him along. Kanda must have been digging his heels into the ground to keep Lavi from moving him very far.

"Why?" Kanda asked again. His brown eyes were glassy because of the alcohol, shining from the light of the street lamp above their heads.

"Because, Yuu," Lavi said gently, not wanting to upset him in his state. "You're straight and I'm not. You don't want to drink wine with me because it's inappropriate. You drink wine with someone you love, or at least someone that you want to be romantically involved with." Kanda took a moment to process this information, turning his head to the side.

"Fine. Buy your butt slut wine and ignore me," Kanda said, seeming truly dejected.

"Yuu, don't get like this," Lavi murmured, shaking his head. Kanda had a terrible habit of sulking when he didn't get his way. This happened when he was sober too, but more often when he was inebriated.

"Get like what?"Kanda grumbled.

"Like you're jealous," Lavi said, pulling his drunken friend along.

"Maybe I am," Yuu replied.

"No," Lavi said, his smile falling slightly. He didn't know if it was in disappointment or for some other reason. "You're not."

**pqpq**

Allen had to return to work sooner or later. He wished that he could have spent more time at the lake house, exchanging letters with Lavi. The notes were scattered on the kitchen table from where Allen had been reading and rereading them. Lavi sounded so kind and so _lonely_. Every word reminded Allen of something he'd forgotten to put in his reply. He could have filled novels with his feelings and known that Lavi would have read them. How, Allen wasn't sure, but he knew Lavi would have.

_I'm going to leave the lake house soon._

_Why would you do something like that? Isn't the Lake House your home?_

_It is, but I have to go back to work. This was just…a reprieve for me. _

_I understand._

The two words hurt Allen deeper than he could explain. Leaving the lake house meant abandoning the correspondence with Lavi, didn't it? He ran his fingertips over the words, unable to ease the regret he felt. The next morning, when Allen was putting his belongings into the car, he checked the mailbox one last time out of habit. Inside, there was a thick envelope with his name upon it.

_If it is our last time corresponding, then I want you to take a walk with me. Well, not precisely with me, but you understand…_

Allen drove back to the city with the rest of the note unread. It sat in the passenger seat beside him for the entire trip, Allen biting his lip when he glanced at it. He couldn't shake the feeling of losing something important.

That Friday, he unpacked his things and reacquainted himself with his apartment. Timcanpy did not enjoy being back, as made apparent by his constant whining and jumping up onto the window seat to seek the sun. Allen lay on the couch and stared at the letter, not wanting to open it further. If he did, he would only want to talk to Lavi even more through that otherwise unappealing mailbox.

_Saturday morning, start out at about nine. Walk towards Grassmarket out on James Boulevard._

Allen pulled his coat around himself as he followed the directions in the letter. It wasn't too early, so he had to wait a few times to cross the roads. People sped by in their cars without a glance at him, but that was fine with Allen. He pushed his hair from his eyes and walked, breathing in the March morning air. It was crisp, almost like autumn, but softer, hinting of the oncoming spring. The vendors were setting up their booths in the squares, along the sidewalks. It smelled like cooking fish, fresh vegetables, Earth, the ocean, coffee…the scent made Allen smile, closing his eyes for a brief moment to enjoy it. He listened to the sounds of people gathering their wares, arranging their products, peeling their produce. It was the heartbeat that Lavi had spoken of with such love and affection. It made Allen smile.

_Go through there and get something to eat. Find a vendor there called Alambra's. Buy an authentic chai tea. He stirs it with a stick of cinnamon. It's the best in the city. _

Allen found the place in question, surprised that it would be there in his time. Above his head, a peeling, faded sign read: _Alambra's_. Despite its wear, Allen could see its love, feel the compassion that the owner felt for it. It was his heartbeat in a city of heartbeats, pulsing the life that Allen felt rushing through his veins at that very moment. A man wearing a turban was happy to help him, preparing the hot drink in the most interesting of ways. It was a frothy result, stirred with a fresh cinnamon stick, just as Lavi had said. Allen also purchased a type of breakfast bread from the man, who smiled somewhat mysteriously upon seeing the letter in his hand.

"What is it?" Allen asked, feeling as if he was missing out on something.

"Love," said the man. Before Allen could ask another word, he told him: "Drink up and enjoy!" Allen folded up the letter and secured his breakfast, hurrying away towards the nearest clearing in the square. He sat down on an empty bench and took a sip of his drink, eyes widening at the flavor. It was everything Lavi had described: the spiciness, the sweet flavor, the warmth that spread through his body.

_Now, relax and eat. Watch as the market gets busier. If you look at the buildings around you, you can play games as the shadows retreat into the crevices. Sometimes, they look like faces._

Allen did as Lavi suggested, watching and feeling as the city woke and came to life. Watching as the sun chased the darkness away. It brought more warmth to the chilly air. People began to come to the market as the faces appeared in the nooks and crannies of the old buildings. They weren't evil expressions like Allen thought. They were merely watching faces.

_The guardians of the city of the wind_.

When Allen was through with his snack, he continued to sit on his bench until it became too noisy to do so. Then, he removed the letter from his pocket and turned it to the next page, where more script awaited him.

_Now, let's walk down towards the park. It's not that far. Only about fifteen minutes. Because it's so early, the baseball team won't be out there if you walk to the fields. Stand on second base and look at the city. It's sure to dazzle._

Allen walked the distance. The park was open and quiet. A few people were jogging, walking their dogs. Some children were laughing on the playground and at the skate park, Allen could hear the sounds of jamming metal music. He did not concern himself with this, searching for the baseball field. It was out further, closer to Birch than he remembered it. Just like Lavi said, it was empty. With certain steps, Allen walked through the red clay from first to second base. Then, he breathed in and turned around to face the city. It was the most breathtaking sight Allen had seen in a long time. He never imagined that the buildings could be so majestic or could provide such beautiful light.

_If you can tear your eyes away, let's continue on. I love the historical district, don't you? All the houses are so interesting there. No two are alike. The streets are so narrow that it's cozy, not annoying. Let's enjoy the sights._

That was what the note said when Allen glanced at it again. And so, from the glittering buildings, he began walking towards the old portion of roads. The streets were old, lined with trees, protected historical sights. Lavi pointed out some of his favorite houses and explained the architecture, the stories, behind them. Allen was enthralled.

_And what kind of walk would it be if we didn't have lunch? Let me treat you to something spectacular_. _Go to Schmidt's and take a seat at the bar. Tell them your name and my surprise should be there waiting for you_.

Allen's brow furrowed, but he did as he was told, finding the restaurant. It wasn't busy, just opening for the afternoon rush, and so when Allen stepped inside, he was assisted immediately.

"Can I help you?" asked the bartender.

"Um, I'm here…" Allen didn't know what to say, putting his letter into his pocket. "M-My name is Allen Walker. A friend of mine…told me to come…" The man looked at him, eyes rather wide, blinking too often to be normal.

"You say Allen Walker?" he asked, as if he had misheard.

"Y-Yes," Allen said, a bit hesitantly.

"Take a seat," said the bartender, pointing at the empty bar. Allen did so, shaking all the while. What was Lavi's plan in all of this anyway? He didn't want to read ahead, pleased with the surprises that Lavi had in store for their walk that day. So, Allen sat silently, his curiosity burning and fingers curling around the hem of his coat with anticipation. The bartender returned a few moments later, but did not put him out of his misery. A brown, wooden box was placed before him, his name written in permanent marker on the side in a familiar scrawl.

"I had to pry the top off it," the bartender told him, indicating the top that was missing. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve with a laugh. "I've been wondering what was in that box for years, you know." Allen swallowed and leaned forward to look inside. There was another letter and…a bottle of fine wine.

_Surprise!_ The note said. _You said you liked merlot, so I bought this when Schmidt's first opened. I asked them to let you have it when you came in and they agreed. Drink up! It's on me. –Lavi_

The bartender brought him a glass, opened the bottle and poured him the wine. Aged, it tasted wonderful. Bitter, but not too bitter. The flavor was sad. Red wine was the drink of the lonely, wasn't it?

After his wine, the bartender packed it up for him and asked him to come back sometime. His co-workers would love to put the name to a face. Allen smiled faintly, assuring him that he would do so. He wanted to know what Lavi looked like, but since the bartender hadn't known what was in the box, then he wouldn't have known the purchaser either. With a thanks, Allen left and walked out into the sunny afternoon.

_I hope you enjoyed it. When I tasted it for the first time, it reminded me of us, somehow. There's something very sad about this, isn't there? _

Allen couldn't agree more. He stood on the corner and looked down at his shoes, shaking his head. The entire day would have been so much better if Lavi had been there with him. His fingers clutched at the letter, reading the last sentence there with a bitter smile.

_I know what you're thinking. But didn't we have a great time today? I know I did. Look north towards the freeway. _

Doing so, Allen's eyes filled with tears he didn't bother to wipe away. The wine was still tart upon his tongue, reminding him of the relationship with person two years in the past, on the other side of the mailbox. The person who he had enjoyed the day with, despite being in two different times.

_But didn't we have a great time today? I know I did_ was what he said. Before Allen's eyes, the freeway. Below it, an aged brick wall covered in graffiti. But what caught his eye were the words in black, nearly at the top, as if to escape the art down below. They were clear, bold, and went right to Allen's heart:

**Allen, I'm here with you. Thanks for the wonderful Saturday together.**


End file.
